The Perils of Eavesdropping
by Shy Pistachio
Summary: Zuko overhears a private conversation between Suki and Katara with unforseen (and painful) consequences. Zutara,
1. Part 1

_This story became a little too large to put in a drabble series, so I've removed it from "The Most of Us" to its own little spot._

_It goes to thescarynymph, who provided the second prompt in the reviews for "The Most of Us."_

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**The Perils of Eavesdropping, Part I**

In retrospect, the situation could have been handled differently. More elegantly, perhaps. If Zuko had just strode through the oak double doors into the kitchen, his chin held high and a small, friendly smile gracing his face, this predicament wouldn't have been a predicament at all. It would just have been a conversation that happened that one time that everyone just forgot about and never spoke of again.

But apparently he had been the Blue Spirit for a bit too long: though he was decked in his full Fire Nation regalia, creaking armor and heavy, garish boots, his approach was utterly silent; even the robes brushing the marble floors of the halls of the palace barely made a whisper.

It was for this reason that neither Suki nor Katara heard him walking swiftly to his next meeting (something about his birthday celebration or whatever). Or perhaps they were just too…involved in their conversation.

"—just too big, Suki."

His feet seemed to stop by themselves, with no consideration, and he found himself turning around and sidling up to one of the double doors to the palace's kitchen, which stood slightly ajar.

"Oh, Katara," Suki was saying, "Surely it can't be _that_—"

"It _is_, though. It really is." Katara exhaled, a breathy sigh full of a potent mixture of ecstasy and longing and not a little bit of sadness. "I just don't know what to do about it. Of course Aang is enthusiastic, but it just…won't fit. It can't be done."

This…

This was not happening. He was not listening to this. He was not purposefully edging along the wall to keep out of sight, _not_ scooting closer to the gap in the door to hear every. Single. Word.

"Have you talked to him about it?" Suki's concern made Zuko wonder about Sokka, and then made Zuko wonder if taking a hot poker to various parts of his brain would make him forget forever the mental image of Sokka's—

"You know Aang," Katara said, and Zuko heard the rustling of fabric. He imagined her smoothing her skirt down with nervous hands. Were hers sweaty like his? "He's an optimist. He thinks that everything will work out in the end, but to be honest…"

Zuko pressed his face against the door.

"He just doesn't know how to handle it."

Zuko choked on his own spit.

"Did you hear that?" he heard Suki ask suddenly, and (much later) he swore he had never moved so fast in his life. He threw himself out of the way, against the wall, just as the door burst open. He stopped it with a deft hand, his nose a hair's breadth away from being crushed by the ornate wood.

"Hm," said Katara.

The sound of shuffling feet, then Suki saying, "That was weird." He heard another rustle, like Suki was shrugging. "Anyway, maybe you should talk to Iroh about it. He might have some pretty good ideas about what to do in this situation."

"Good idea. I'm sure he's had enough experience with this type of thing to give some pretty awesome advice."

"Maybe even a few pointers?" Suki said, giggling.

The door closed with a small snap as Katara's laugh echoed through the expansive corridor, while the ruler of the Fire Nation, leaning weakly against the walls of his palace, willed his legs to become something more than two puddles of water on the floor.


	2. Part 2

_A/N: Part II! This one is a bit sloppy in my opinion, but I needed a filler chapter type of a thing to show how the overheard conversation has tortured Zuko._

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**The Perils of Eavesdropping, Part II**

The following week was quite busy. One's days are filled to the brim with diplomatic meetings and such when one is trying to rebuild a broken world. He may as well have been trying to repair a shattered window with his bare hands. It was painful and mildly bloody. Shards of open hostility, hefty reparations, and a crumbling economy left the Fire Lord with a very long list of things to do.

But Zuko found himself not worrying about the increased tax on rice that week. He kept getting distracted. When Katara was nearby, he found himself watching her from the corner of his eye: the way she threw back her head to laugh at a joke Sokka told, the way her arms swayed as she moved through her waterbending forms, the way she got that little furrow between her eyes when she was poring over progress reports from the Southern Water Tribe. Even when she was gone, gone to visit a bakery or a school or a hospital with Aang, he was distracted. While his calligrapher grilled him on letters he had yet to send to the governers, Zuko found himself wondering (extremely reluctantly) how such a small kid like Aang could be so…well-endowed. His cook demanded more expensive ingredients for the dishes that would be served at his birthday feast as Zuko contemplated his own…qualities (even more reluctantly). And as his uncle asked him politely exactly whom he was thinking of with such a "delightful expression of love," Zuko was staring at the red drapes on his office window and wondering exactly how brown skin would look against crimson sheets—

His elbow slipped off the corner of his desk.

"Expression of what?"

Iroh's grin was beatific. "Love, my dear nephew." He lifted his teacup. "I have never seen you look so…incredibly smitten as you did just now."

"I am not smitten, Uncle." He tried very hard to ignore the blush creeping from his neck. "And there was no 'expression of love.'" He mimed air quotations and folded his arms. "I was just…"

Iroh waited politely, his eyes shimmering with what Zuko assumed was suppressed mirth.

"It doesn't matter," he said, and sounded so much like his old angsty give-me-the-Avatar self that he unfolded his arms and folded his hands instead. "What is it you needed?"

Iroh shrugged, but his feigned nonchalance was transparent. "I was merely going to ask what your favorite flavor of custard was for your birthday celebration." He put down his teacup and folded his hands over his belly. "But," he said, smiling softly, "I can see you have other, more pressing issues on your mind, nephew."

"It's nothing, really. Just…something stupid." The blush had spread to the bridge of his nose.

Iroh continued to smile.

The blush had reached the crown of his head. They continued to stare at each other.

Iroh reached and drained the last of his tea. "Very well, Fire Lord Zuko," he said, and Zuko could hardly believe he had won. Iroh smiled as he lifted himself from the table and bowed.

This was…too easy.

Iroh was at the door.

"Uncle—"

"I am excellent at giving advice, Zuko," Iroh interrupted, fully grinning now. "Just ask Miss Suki and Lady Katara."

_He knows._

Zuko's stunned silence made the room seem much larger than it was.

"If I were you," Iroh continued, and Zuko thought his teeth would rot, Iroh's smile was so saccharine, "I would not wait until it's too late." And with a wink, he was gone.


	3. Part 3

**The Perils of Eavesdropping, Part III**

Zuko was beginning to think he was going to enjoy his birthday celebration even less than usual. Not in the least because-

"Surprise!" Aang's shout echoed through the vast banquet hall, catching the attention of every palace staff member within a five-mile radius. The huge tablecloth slithered to the floor, revealing an enormous...something.

"What is it?" Zuko asked, bewildered.

Aang's party hat drooped slightly to the side as his arms and smile fell. "It's an egg custard tart," he said, his eyes round.

"An...egg custard tart," said Zuko, blinking.

Aang brightened. "Yep! A big one!"

"With my name on it."

Aang nodded, grinning proudly.

The gleaming square monstrosity tilted a little, looking as though one small tap would send the whole thing sliding to the floor. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ZUKO" was written in red icing on the front (as the top was too far over all their heads to see), with an orange doodle with spiky hair shooting what looked like gooey fireballs lilted slightly to the left. The whole thing wobbled as Sokka stepped forward.

"_I _drew you," he said, pointing to himself with his thumb.

"I look very..."

"Grumpy!" Sokka said. "Spot-on, if you ask me. Ow! Suki!"

"Rude," she hissed.

Zuko looked around to the rest of the group: Toph was snickering silently, Iroh was studying Sokka's drawing with interest, and Katara was smiling softly.

"I'm actually kind of impressed," she said. "I was telling Suki the other day that there was _no way_ this thing would fit in the kitchen's oven."

This brought Zuko up short, and he wiped his forehead shakily. "Really?"

"Yeah. And Aang really had _no idea _how to use it, the oven, I mean, and so we asked your uncle about it—" (Zuko shot a glance at Iroh, who seemed to be studying the gigantic dessert with much more interest than before) "—and he said to just let Aang give it a try. It was all his idea," she said, smiling affectionately at the airbender, who was now, along with a drooling Sokka, carving pieces out of the custard.

"You don't say," said Zuko faintly.

"It was huge, Zuko. Glistening and silky-smooth, but _huge_." She held her arms out for emphasis.

It was very difficult not to bury his face in his hands and just _sit._

Aang popped up between them, holding out a plate. "So, Sifu Hotman," he said, grinning, "you want some?"

So Zuko took the dish heaped with huge, glistening, silky-smooth custard and, carefully not looking at either of them, picked up his fork.


	4. Part 4

**The Perils of Eavesdropping, Part 4**

Zuko didn't usually indulge in drink, but tonight seemed as good a night as any.

The steam from the hot spring behind the palace congealed around him, making him sweat and assisting with the intoxication process. The half-empty bottle of Bei Fong baijiu (a coronation gift from Toph) sloshed violently as he took another swig.

The more he drank, the less the liquor burned. But it made the steam around him seem more wobbly.

"You might want to slow down, Sunshine."

Zuko choked mid-swig.

Toph plopped down next to him, dipping her feet into the hot water. She let out a breathy sigh of relief. "My feet were getting sore from all that dancing."

Zuko, tears in his eyes, threw her a skeptical look.

"I know," she said, evidently feeling his response, "but Sokka made a slight about my supposed 'lack of dancing skills,' so me and Twinkletoes proved him wrong." She laughed. "The loser had to drink five shots of firewhiskey in a row, so he might not be doing more dancing himself tonight."

Zuko smiled wanly. "I imagine not."

Toph's left hand felt the ground directly to his right. Zuko could feel the ground move slightly. "So, what's your deal?" she asked. "You're more mopey than usual. And on your birthday."

"I...it's nothing," Zuko said.

Toph snorted. "It's never 'nothing.'"

"It could be."

"But it's _not_."

Zuko became very quiet.

Then, "It's about-"

"-Katara," Toph finished.

He gaped. "How did-"

"I'm blind, Sunshine, not stupid."

A pause. "You talked to my uncle."

"Because your vibrations _totally _didn't give you away," Toph said. "Your heart's been hopping around like a rabbiroo when she's around. Well, more than usual."

He sank deeper into the water. "So you know.'

"I know a lot more than you do, apparently."

Zuko sat bolt upright, his head hitting the hard rock behind him. "What do you mean?" he asked quickly, rubbing the back of his aching skull.

"I know that you're being all mopey for no reason."

"I'm not—"

"And I know you love her."

Toph reached out and snatched the baijiu before the bottle could slip into the spring from his suddenly-slack fingers, taking a large gulp herself. She hissed softly in appreciation. "Say what you want about my family, but they knew what they were doing when they made this stuff," she said, smacking her lips.

The Fire Lord could only stare at her, open-mouthed. Toph leaned over and, without turning her head, reached out and tapped his lower jaw closed with two fingers.

Zuko seemed to come back to himself. "I don't—"

"Uh-uh," said Toph, holding up one finger and lifting the bottle to her lips again. "I can tell when you're lying."

For a long time, the only sounds were the babbling spring and the faint music from his ongoing party echoing around the rocks.

When he finally spoke, Zuko's voice was very low. "If that's true," he said, almost lightly, "don't you think I have a right to be 'all mopey,' as you call it?"

"Why?" asked Toph, twirling her foot in the water.

"Because she's with Aang!" Everything he had been feeling and stamping down seemed to bubble forth at once. "The savior of the world! Even if he wasn't the Avatar, the one who stopped the _Hundred Years War_, he's still my best friend! I would never, _ever _take what was his!"

"Oh?" said Toph, pulling her feet out of the spring and setting them firmly on the edge. "So Katara's his property?"

"Yes! I mean, no! I mean…" He ran both hands up over his face and gripped his hair. "I mean, she's not property. She's her own person. She's herself. She's independent. And fierce. And strong and stubborn and pretty and kind and compassionate, and she belongs with Aang." He took a shaky breath, and his voice lowered. "I love her," he said. "I love her, and she's with Aang. Do you think I have the right to be 'all mopey'?" He finally looked over at Toph, and his broken face twisted into irritation. "What are you smirking at?"

"I'm not with Aang," said a quiet voice behind them.


End file.
